I think it was shortly after Lynn started at Western College for Women, that my Dad got a small apartment in Tudor City over by the U.N. He had been commuting to and from New Haven since 1947 (in addition to traveling on the road for both J. Press and Chipp), and I guess he thought it was time to “reclaim” a few 3 hour blocks per day. And my Mom would usually go in a couple of days a week, and up to 4 days during the fall as well.
This was possible because Mommie Sophie and Bessie were there to take care of the house & me. Mommie Soph would drive me to school and get me from point “A” to point “B”. Bessie in those days played a far less vocal role in the household operations (although years later… particularly in my father’s declining years… she was completely in charge).
Mommie Soph remained a force in our lives even as she herself went into a decline. You could see it in how all of our acquaintances responded to her… Paul’s & Lynn’s friends and my friends, too. She was a real character… her accent, her convoluted syntax; but always the gracious host… and this I didn’t realize ’til years later… she knew how to keep quiet. Maybe it was because she felt uncomfortable if conversations moved to areas that she had little understanding of… maybe she was inherently shy.
But sometimes I think that before there was a Yogi Berra, there was Sophie Fleischner… that combination of savy, earthy wisdom that is articulated in unconventional sentence structure.
And perhaps the first sign that we were growing up was when we moved from being embarrassed by her “sound”, to being amused & finally to being proud.
I am sorry that Ellen only got to know her after she peaked… and I feel “cheated” that my kids never got to know her at all. She loved babies, and she knew of 6 great-grand children. She knew that the kids were the future, and for her the future was bright… even while she was lying in bed with life draining from her.
My Dad told me that when you lose your second parent you instantly become an orphan… at whatever age. He also referred to the process of losing a parent as “the maturing of the matured”. And so it was with my mother, who watched her mother die in our house… and then would (in combination with other family issues) never regain her full stability… After Mommie Soph died, my mother would spend the late winter/early spring in Florida… no longer able to be at home for Passover… so strong the link between that Holiday and Mommie Soph. The absence hurt too much.
On April 15, 1983 both Ellen and my father were in Yale-New Haven Hospital. Dad was in to have his prostate checked out (because of his weight, and other medical risks… a procedure that would have been done as a same day deal, turned into an overnight)… and Ellen to give birth.
And so it comes full circle… Shaina Catherine Winston comes into the world (Jewish name Shaina Clara). Two weeks later my Dad died.
Lives are added, and lives are subtracted…
The period of mourning for Jews immediately after death is called shiva. People come and visit… stories are told, there are smiles, there are tears… there is a vacancy in our lives.
“So Eve… Jimmy and Ellen have a new baby, what did they name her?”
“They named her Shaina for Mamma…”
“Mazel Tov… but what did they name her?”
Yes… the friends were thrown for a loop. We had chosen a name that would be both her “English” name and her “Jewish” name…
And when I look at Shaina today, a young woman with a perfect combination of grit and loving heart, I think of Mommie Soph and how wonderful life is…
I’m writing because my daughter is also Shaina-Clara! She was born in 1993, and named for my grandfather Simon and his sister Claire. I just happened to find your website while doing a Google search. Small world!